The Long Awaited Deep Emotion
by LittleBlueNayru
Summary: ...Is between two entirely unexpected people.  Tony and England have epic extraterrestrial UST, just for the lulz.  Complete crack.


Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia.

This... is complete and utter crack. Don't take it seriously.

Inspired by my twisted mind, and the sentence I just put on my profile: "Tony and England have epic extraterrestrial UST, just for the lulz".

UST, for those innocent readers out there, means "Unresolved Sexual Tension".

Because when Tony says "Fucking Limey"...

Anyway, again, do not take this seriously. Do not worry, all you USUK-ers and FrUK-ers and RusUK-ers and any other UK shippers out there.

Anyway, there is nothing disturbingly graphic in here, because even when not being serious I can't do any sort of lemon. Have fun!

* * *

The Long-Awaited Deep Emotion

America knew quite well that his former caretaker and now perpetually grumpy friend England really needed to get laid. England was just no fun, sour about everything _all the time_, raining on America's parades and deflating his self-esteem just to make himself feel better, and America really truly wanted to have a friendship with England that went beyond sarcastic jibes and heated arguments with hands at each others' throats. But America was not even remotely interested in providing the role in England's life that he felt England desperately needed, so as he went through his period of isolation and two World Wars, he kept an eye out for that elusive nation that could get the stick out of England's ass.

France was a pervert, and a constant headache to both England and America. He was out. Russia was Russia, so he was out too. He considered China, but China was involved with his own issues. Switzerland shot at him when he went to ask him. Switzerland shot at him again when he asked if Liechtenstein would help him. Belgium slammed the door in his face, screaming about people always running through her yard to get everywhere, and What's-His-Face had gotten _really_ scary.

England himself never really seemed to show much interest in anyone anyway, and after much thought, America came to the unhappy conclusion that England needed someone out of this world.

Imagine his euphoria when he went to Roswell.

* * *

Tony had absolutely zero interest in meeting America's friend England. He complained about it the entire morning before the nation came over. As America ran to get the door and drag his protesting friend back, he began to think of all sorts of insults he could use to drive the guy away so he could spend more time with America and less worrying about World Wars.

But when he first laid eyes on England, he was speechless. Well, thoughtless. America's blond hair had _nothing_ on this guy's, so bright it was, and the unsure eyes that stared at him with a mixture of incredulity and unease drowned him in a sea of the sweetest green. And his eyebrows... oh, what beautiful glories were those. Tony shivered as he imagined running his long fingers through them... He couldn't let America know he was absolutely taken with him and risk an eternity of "I told you so"s.

So he said the first words that came to mind. _"FUCKING LIMEY."_

England, for his part, inspected Tony with and understandably large amount of misgivings. He sure as hell was not about to admit that he felt himself getting lost in Tony's bulbous red eyes that stared at him so unreadably it was _suave_, a word only France would use, or that he secretly longed to hold his oh-so-pale white skin and see if it was really as smooth and comforting as it looked.

He responded with, "_WANKING ALIEN."_

The aura around the two darkened considerably, and America looked on, beaming with happiness. His plan would work... given time.

Tony would never admit to anyone that he became exactly a "wanking alien" that night after England had left for home, and England would never admit to the little butterflies in his stomach as he showed a picture of Tony's _irresistable_ face to his magical friends and laughed at it, thinking of how it would feel in the crook of his neck or leaning in closer and closer so they would-

England's friends never bothered to tell him they were laughing at him rather than with him, as he had faintly drawn Tony's head in the shape of a heart.

Their glares, jibes, and auras of darkness continued for over sixty years, until, one day, on a visit at America's house, they both suddenly snapped. Neither knew who instigated it, only that one moment Tony was glaring at England's "food" with contempt and England was glaring right back at Tony, and the next they were attempting to make like Russia and "become one", halfway up the stairs to England's guest bedroom.

And neither knew that America was outside the window filming the whole thing, muttering to a mind-raped France, "I told you so! Country of Awesome, one, Country of Romance, _zero!_"

* * *

Okay, wow.

Happy Halloween!


End file.
